She peers out the glass,
at the bright blue sky...

The world, the world, the world..
what makes the world go 'round...

We often wonder and question,
the meaning of life...

I'm falling in more ways than one...
....once again the cycle resets...

Six hundred, fifty-eight kilometers,
or four hundred and eight miles...

Beginning like every other day,
my eyes open reluctantly...

Drifting through the moments,
always consumed within...

Beneath the sunsets orange,
the green grass grows rich...

I was going to be, so much more...
A little miss goody two shoes...

Into the shades of black,
she walked alone...

Left with silence,
in the absence...

Each time I stare,
into your gorgeous eyes...